


Applause

by EtherealOmega



Series: Farren's Adventures [1]
Category: The Holders (Creepypasta)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 17:50:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9618542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EtherealOmega/pseuds/EtherealOmega
Summary: "In any city, in any country, go to any theater or cinema you can get yourself too. There you will find the Holder of Legion, but be warned, they are a fickle being. Only the grandest of performances and the most humble of respects will satiate them. Your task is merely to please them, and you shall be rewarded in kind."Many challenges set out for Seekers had ways of being researched. There were volumes left from past, and failed, game sessions though one couldn't trust everything they said. They were as much fallacies as truths so the veterans of the game had learned to only trust the most reliable of sources. Farren only had one: Altaire, an information broker who sold cheap as long as she could trust you and you were ready to have to watch your back.. The trials weren't the only things she sold on, but this time she had little to go on and little to tell. So just like his first time, Farren would have to rely upon pure instinct in hopes of holding one of the more challenging items in his hands.Would item four-hundred and three out of five-hundred and thirty-eight fall into his hands, or would he fall into the abyss of uncertainty awaiting all failed seekers at the end of their terms?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the Series Notes if you are looking for basic world knowledge, otherwise just comment or PM me for extra details! 
> 
> This is my (slightly changed) spin off of the Holder of the Many - which you may often during conversation hear me refer to as the Holder of Legion despite that being a different story. It's just the way it clicks in my mind. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Taking a deep breath, the man stood before the long abandoned theater doors. He'd been warned against taking on this item challenge by many, but he'd brushed aside the bitter words of most. If it had merely been those words, he would have already passed the threshold; however, the caution imparted by his reliable informant gave him a true reason to pause. _"I don't have much to tell you about this one, Farren.. I'm afraid that to date there's no record of anyone succeeding, so I've had to gather what little I could from the more twisted records." She had smiled as softly as was possible for a game participant while leading him into a room they could speak privately within. "I only know the location and the..." she trailed off, eyebrows scrunching a bit, as she attempted to discern the right word. "The general premise. The two main themes which always occur are entertainment and proper respect. Otherwise," the slight woman handed over a small folder of copied notes, "there's not much to impart it seems. Looks like you'll have to trust your instincts like in your first game."_ It's not that the dark haired male's instincts had waned since his childhood. It was merely that he'd learned instinct was often not enough to ensure victory in these tests.

With an exasperated exhale, the man made his choice. Instincts it was.

The teenager sitting behind the ticket counter grinned up at him, though the gesture was made more frightful than welcoming by the hollow grey eyes piercing into him. A light voice chimed out a question about which showing the guest wished to see. It was answered simply, "None. I'd liked to meet with the Holder of the Many." A pseudo- grin suddenly morphed into a look bordering pure terror and gleeful amusement; the youth's mouth opened to speak again, but Farren quickly cut him off. "My audience awaits, and their patience wears thin.."

In truth, he had no idea why he cut the youth off nor why those words were the ones to pass his lips. However, seeing as the game's pawn stood and opened a door directly behind it, his words had been correct. It's blank eyes refused to leave the Seeker's form as he approached then entered the door, shutting it firm behind him. Immediately it was apparent he was not alone.. The weight of the air was too much for a single living being.. Too quiet for any more though. His feet compelled Farren to move though, and his steady footfalls echoed against the small corridor's walls. The staves strapped to his back in an 'x' aided in his stability. He was not here for nothing.. Whatever or whoever was here would get the show of their lives from him..

A new door was fast approaching and with it came a new rhythm of his heart. Not fear as in his first game.. Excitement. His heart was racing from the thrill of possible death before his hand ever graced the brass knob, but what greeted him first was not what he expected. A lesser man may have jumped at the animated corpse dressed in the tatters of an usher which greeted him, the game's veteran merely raised an eyebrow and awaiting the instructions he could only assume would be given.

He was not disappointed.

The decayed hand reached out in a guiding gesture indicating a set of stairs not far from their place of rest. A courteous nod of thanks was all he spared the second guiding pawn before briskly ascending the stairs. The stage was large and auditorium silent.. No audience seemed present here though the same weight from the hall hung heavy in the air. Slowly he began his preparations. The two staved were removed from his back to be placed parallel upon the obsidian floor. A large flask of alcohol with tube through which to draw it was placed between them. A lighter found its position in his hand before he slowly turning his back upon the audience. Unease and restlessness was thick in the air.. almost tangible upon the tongue. Yet, he would not let it sway him. Life or death await him, Farren would do this properly. So still at the pace of a song's slow beginning, he removed his shirt, carefully folded it, and set it aside for the chance he would walk out after all was done.

Only after another pause for a deep breath did he turn and begin. A steady dance of fire, flesh, and song to meld chaos and order. Fast in it's time yet many were its pauses and moments of peace. This precise performance never once had he enacted, yet his body moved through it's flames like something known since birth. Never once did his voice falter though the tongue it uttered be foreign to Farren's lips. Then when it was over he fell to the floor eyes shut. His knees would ache from their impact upon the hard stone, of that he was certain, and the heat from the lit end of the staves warmed his shoulder blades beyond what was wished. Though still his stillness persisted for what seemed an eternity until the applause rang out through the amphitheater.

His audience had arrived, and he had not disappointed.. He had provided them with what they longed for.

All too soon the deafening silence came.. Nothing stirred, and uncertainty froze the toned body kneeling upon the open expanse. He could only remain still for so long though, and eventually he raised his head. The same death touched usher was standing before him holding a well worn microphone. Following the other's prompting, Farren stood cautiously taking the microphone. Turning his eyes upon the audience, he could now see that every seat was full.. However, they were full of mere forms of darkness with eyes of sunken glowing snow.. He could feel fear pierce his wearied form as he stared out at them, and he couldn't help but waste his one question upon something which could easily be dismissed as nonsense.

"Why are there so many of you?"

The microphone was immediately gone, and one by one each of the dark figures rose. When the last one stood the Seeker's vision was consumed in darkness. Before his eyes, one by one, played the many performances and as each ended the beautiful seeker was consumed by shadows. Then a single voice rang out pronouncing what they had lacked. "I was devoid of pride." "I lacked poise." "There was no fury." "Not enough spirit was present." "I didn't have the patience." On and on the reasons were listed in a never ending cycle of defeat. To many performances.. Too many words to remember.. Then once more, silence as the darkness faded from his eyes. He was no longer upon the impressive stage of fate. Instead he stood alone before the rubble of a seemingly long ago demolished theater.. His skin crawled and brunt a few moments longer before a calm settled over the area.. It was done and he had won: the markings of black settling into his skin and the eyes he could now feel upon him was proof enough of that.

Now it was time to return to Altaire's quaint little shop. He was sure the small female would enjoy the story, and just maybe it would be enough to earn him a new shirt as well.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoyed. This was the last story I'll ever write as a minor, and I'm actually rather proud of it. :3  
> Any sort of commentary is always appreciated so don't feel shy to leave a comment about absolutely anything. Especially since I'm just now getting back into writing this sort of stuff after a few years of nothing. So if you have critiques that's great, but if all you want to do is tell me that you liked it, trust me that's the best praise any writer can ever get.Any sort of commentary makes me feel like I should definitely keep writing in general! Kudos are also lovely, fyi.~  
> Hope y'all have a great day/night where ever you are, and best of luck in this game which we call life.
> 
> Signed,  
> EO
> 
> P.S.  
> I'm considering writing out the story of his first trial (aka what Altaire refers to as 'his first game'). If any of you are interested let me know, but until then this is most likely complete.


End file.
